


to face unafraid, the plans that we made

by shoebox_addict



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Christmas Fluff, Declarations Of Love, First Time, Getting Together, M/M, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Tender Sex, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), aziraphale makes cocoa the human way, christmas is a time to confess your feelings to your "hereditary enemy", discussing emotions over sushi, the flat over the bookshop, there are tartan pyjamas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:21:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21826609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoebox_addict/pseuds/shoebox_addict
Summary: “Are you even listening to me?” said Crowley, snapping the angel out of his reverie. “Well, clearly the magic is gone from this relationship.”“And what relationship is that, exactly?” said Aziraphale. Better now than never, right? He’d already dragged his feet for six thousand years.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 492
Collections: Good Omens Holiday Swap 2019, Top Aziraphale Recs





	to face unafraid, the plans that we made

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aziraphales (arka_r)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arka_r/gifts).



> Happy Holidays, @Aziraphales! I had a lovely time writing this festive fic, and I hope you enjoy it!

“Has Dickens been here, then?” 

Aziraphale frowned and stepped out from behind the till. Crowley was standing at the front door, shrugging off his stylish black overcoat. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said, has Dickens been here?” said Crowley, gesturing to the garlands, tree, and other Christmas paraphernalia. “It looks like a bloody Christmas carol.” 

“I only did a bit of decorating,” said Aziraphale, adjusting the nearest wreath. 

“You’re going to get pine needles in your books,” said Crowley, with a wink. “I’ve never seen the place so done up for Christmas. What’s got into you this year?”

“You know, I’m not quite sure,” said Aziraphale. “It seems such a singularly human holiday to celebrate. We don’t have Christmas in heaven, of course.”

“No matter what Monty Python have to say on the subject,” Crowley murmured. 

“Yes, you played that song for me,” said Aziraphale. “It was absurd.”

“That’s rather the point,” said Crowley. “Never been one for Christmas, obviously. Demon and all that. But I have to admit...this does make the place more inviting. Aren’t you afraid you’ll entice more customers inside?”

Aziraphale froze; he hadn’t thought of that. Truth be told, he didn’t often think of his bookshop as a place of business. For the most part it was simply his home, the place he’d occupied for the better part of two centuries. It was the warm and cozy setting of many such meetings between Crowley and himself. That was what he’d been thinking about as he’d decked his halls -- slow and gentle evenings spent on the sofa with Crowley and a bottle of wine. He’d read enough books to know that Christmas was a time to be spent with the important people in your life. There was only one person (well, demon) who was truly important to Aziraphale.

“Well, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” said Aziraphale. “Perhaps you could lurk around in the shelves and balance out the inviting nature of the decorations.”

Crowley smirked at him. “You know I’d love nothing more. Business has been slow, what with the lack of memos from head office.”

“Indeed,” said Aziraphale, who hadn’t heard anything from heaven since Crowley had spewed fire at the archangels while wearing his face. “Perhaps I should be enticing customers to visit. I’m not quite sure what to do with my time.”

“I think I can be of some assistance,” said Crowely. “What would you say to dinner?”

Aziraphale beamed at him. “That would be lovely. Sushi?”

“Whatever you’d like,” said Crowley. 

“I’ll just get my coat.”

Aziraphale hurried to fetch his coat from the stand near his gramophone. As he pulled it on, he reflected on how easy things had become in recent months. In the old days, Crowley would have sighed exasperatedly and pretended to find sushi disgusting before eventually agreeing to take the angel to his favorite spot. They’d spent rather a lot of time together over six millennia, but now they were seeing each other every day. And yet neither of them could seem to stick the landing, as it were. They were free to do as they pleased, but they couldn’t seem to reach their inevitable destination.

At least, it seemed inevitable to Aziraphale. If he'd missed the mark on this one, he'd feel more than a bit silly.

As Aziraphale made his way back to the front door, he found Crowley with one hand pressed against the nearest pillar, head tilted back to stare up at the shop’s ceiling. There was something in the droop of his shoulders that told Aziraphale he must be thinking about the fire. Though it had been several months since that awful day, Crowley still mentioned it now and then. 

“Crowley?” said Aziraphale, keeping his voice gentle, not wanting to startle the demon. 

“Sorry,” said Crowley, taking his hand off the pillar and stepping back. “I was just...can’t help thinking about it sometimes.”

“I know, dear,” said Aziraphale. The demon’s hand was right there, hanging at his side, and he desperately wanted to grasp it. Instead, he gestured toward the front door. “Shall we?”

They walked side by side to the sushi restaurant up the street, Crowley with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his overcoat, the collar turned up. Aziraphale thought he must be awfully cold, what with his serpentine origins. He’d once seen a couple outside his shop holding hands inside a coat pocket. A woman slipped her hand into her companion’s pocket to surprise her, and the two of them had smiled and kissed. It had seemed rather lovely, and Aziraphale wondered what might happen if he tried that with Crowley. Could he pass it off as simply wanting to share warmth? 

But they’d already arrived -- for the first time in his life, Aziraphale wished that the sushi restaurant were farther from his bookshop. The hostess miraculously had a reservation for them in her book, and Crowley pulled out Aziraphale’s chair for him. As he settled in to review the menu, Aziraphale watched Crowley hang his overcoat on the back of his own chair and brush back his hair. He straightened his shirt over his lean torso, and then sat down sideways in the chair, crossing one long leg over the other. Aziraphale let his gaze linger, even when he knew Crowley had spotted him staring, and the demon blushed. 

“Anything new you’d like to try?” he asked, fiddling with his dark glasses.

“Oh, erm, I was rather in the mood for some maki rolls,” said Aziraphale. “There’s nothing like an old standard, I’ve found.” 

“I’ll try some of whatever you get,” said Crowley. 

When the waitress came by, Aziraphale ordered several rolls, including some without raw fish so Crowley could pick from his plate. Crowley ordered sake. 

While they waited for their food to arrive, Crowley began waxing poetic about the greed and guilt you could inspire through really good Christmas adverts. As Aziraphale listened to him ponder whether he should infiltrate an ad agency (again), his mind wandered back to the street. How lovely it would have been, he thought, to feel the warmth of Crowley’s hand against his own. Did Crowley ever consider touching him like that? If he had, wouldn’t he have done something by now? They’d been free of their respective sides for months, surely that was enough time to consider a new course of action. 

“Are you even listening to me?” said Crowley, snapping the angel out of his reverie. “Well, clearly the magic is gone from this relationship.” 

“And what relationship is that, exactly?” said Aziraphale. Better now than never, right? He’d already dragged his feet for six thousand years. 

“I...what?” said Crowley. 

“The two of us, what do you think we are to each other?” 

“Well, er, you know,” Crowley stammered. “We were...we’ve always been hereditary enemies, you never let me forget that. But now, er, what with the new situation...I suppose we’re friends?”

“ _Just_ friends?” said Aziraphale, pressing on though he could feel his hands shaking. He was sweating, which was a dreadful human bodily function he couldn’t seem to will away. 

Crowley stared at him, dumbstruck. “Where has all this come from, then? Here I thought we were just going out to dinner, not having The Talk.”

“Aha,” said Aziraphale, pointing one finger at him. “So you agree we need to talk about these things? You agree that there is, in fact, something to discuss?”

Crowley squirmed in his seat, glancing around for the waitress and no doubt wondering when the sake would arrive. He cleared his throat. “I, er...well, yes. What with the...that is, things have changed.”

“Indeed they have,” said Aziraphale. “Armageddon changes the way you think about certain things. At least, it’s changed the way I think about you. Or rather, I’m thinking about you the way I always have, but now I’m allowed to. Is any of this making sense?”

The waitress came to their table just as Crowley opened his mouth to reply. They both went silent as she placed Aziraphale’s sushi in front of him and the bottle of sake on the table, along with two ceramic cups. Aziraphale thanked her in Japanese, and Crowley nodded as though to co-sign what the angel had said. When the waitress had gone, Aziraphale picked up his chopsticks, and then set them down again. Better to finish this discussion first, he thought, than distract himself with sushi. 

“I know what you’re trying to say,” said Crowley. “Lets just say that I’ve had extracurricular, non-agreement thoughts about you for a very long time.” 

There was no mistaking what Crowley meant by this, as a red blush bloomed along his cheeks. He opened the sake and poured some for each of them, just to have something to do with his hands. Aziraphale watched him -- the deft movement of his long fingers, the way his eyes flicked nervously up and over his glasses to glance across the table -- and smiled fondly. 

“I’m so relieved to hear you say that,” he said. “You see, my dear, I love you very much.” 

Crowley, who had been taking a drink of sake, coughed and spluttered at this. He thumped his chest with his fist and, once he’d gotten his breath back, said, “You what?” 

“Oh, come now, it can’t be that much of a surprise,” said Aziraphale. “After all, we’ve spent quite a lot of time together. Surely you must have sensed something.”

Crowley shook his head. “I told you that demons can’t sense love.”

“I thought you were being obstinate.”

“No, it’s true,” said Crowley, leaning back in his seat. “The bigger mystery is why...why you’ve never sensed anything from me.”

Aziraphale blinked at him. “Oh. Well, I...that is rather a good question.”

“Because I do...love you,” said Crowley. He leaned forward again and placed his hand on top of Aziraphale’s. “I really do. Have done for ages, it’s a bit embarrassing.” 

“Oh, my dear,” said Aziraphale, feeling pleasantly muddled by this new reality in which Crowley apparently loved him and casually touched his hand in restaurants.

“Like, ages,” Crowley continued. “Literally millennia. Are you telling me you never felt a thing? Because I’ve been twisting myself in knots worrying that you can feel it coming off me like I’m a fucking radiator.” 

“Well,” said Aziraphale, thinking back. “I suppose there always was a rather pleasant feeling when you were around. I assumed it was just because I enjoyed your company. Although, there was one time in particular. During the war, when you saved my books.”

Crowley looked bashfully down at the table. “Yeah, well, that’d be the one to give me away. Knew that was a risky move.” 

“No, it was lovely,” said Aziraphale, gazing at him. “You know, it’s possible that everything I’ve ever assumed was ambient love, swirling around us from all the humans, was yours all along.”

“You’re not serious?” said Crowley. When Aziraphale nodded, he groaned and regrettably removed his hand so he could pour himself some more sake. “It’s a good thing I’m no longer in touch with hell. They’d laugh me out of the gang for this one.”

“Well, you needn’t worry about them anymore,” said Aziraphale. He picked up his chopsticks and chose his first piece of sushi. “And I needn’t worry about heaven either, which makes this all rather interesting.” 

“Interesting?” said Crowley, looking at him over his glasses, which had slid down his nose. “How?”

Aziraphale shrugged, and then wiggled his shoulders a bit. “You know. We know how we feel about each other, and we’re free to do as we please…”

He trailed off and popped the maki roll in his mouth, sighing at the utterly perfect combination of rice and fish. As he chewed, he watched Crowley carefully. The demon blinked at him, and then an expression of what was unmistakably pride crept across his face. 

“You naughty angel,” he teased, draining his second cup of sake and pouring another. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Since you saved my books,” said Aziraphale, smirking at him. “Ah, well -- actually, more like the Bastille. But I tried very hard not to think about it until you went and saved my books.”

“Since the Bastille!” said Crowley. “Oh, to think I could have tried my luck right there in that jail cell.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” said Aziraphale. “I was still beholden to heaven. It would have been terribly tragic.” 

“Might’ve been a good shag, though,” said Crowley. But the smirk soon dropped from his face. “No...no, you’re right, it would have been a rough couple of decades after that.” 

“Yes,” said Aziraphale, his mind wandering to a bookshop opening and an argument in St. James’ Park. He shook his head and brought himself back to the present. “Nevermind that. Things can be different now. If...that is, if you’d like them to be different.”

“I do,” said Crowley, and Aziraphale nearly choked on his sushi to hear that simple vow coming from the demon’s mouth. “I really do. Shall we head back?”

“Crowley,” said Aziraphale, shooting him a scandalized look. “Patience, my dear. I haven’t finished my sushi.”

So began the familiar dance, with Crowley doing everything in his power to tempt the angel, and with Aziraphale stubbornly refusing to respond. It began simply, with Crowley’s hand atop his once more, but soon Aziraphale felt the demon’s boot slide along his calf. The sensation sent shivers through his entire body, and he had to work very hard indeed to keep his face passive. But the boot continued its upward trajectory and was soon sliding along his inner thigh. Though Aziraphale kept eating, his did spread his legs in invitation. As the sole of Crowley’s designer boot rubbed ever so gently at the bulge in Aziraphale’s trousers, the angel lost all resolve.

“I didn’t know you’d be cheating, dear boy,” he said, dabbing his napkin at the corners of his mouth. 

“Should have expected it,” said Crowley, grinning at him. “Demon, remember?” 

Aziraphale, struggling to maintain his composure, signaled for the check. Crowley paid it, leaving a generous tip, and then whisked Aziraphale away from the sushi restaurant. The street outside was too exposed to simply pop out of existence and reappear in the bookshop, so they walked back. Earlier the distance had seemed minimal, but now it felt as though the blocks had lengthened just to taunt Aziraphale. He walked quickly, one arm linked with Crowley’s, so that he was fairly dragging the demon along the street. Crowley chuckled softly but made no remarks until they were back in the shop. 

“A bit eager, are we?” he teased, hands on Aziraphale’s hips as he locked up. 

“More than a bit,” said Aziraphale, spinning around and pressing Crowley backward, further into the shop. “I’ve been waiting rather a long time, dear.”

When Crowley’s back collided with the nearest column, Aziraphale grasped the lapels of his smart coat and leaned in to kiss him. It was their first proper kiss -- of course there had been kisses on the hand that made Aziraphale blush, and kisses on the cheek that Crowley secretly treasured and which cost Aziraphale a great deal of courage. But they had never allowed themselves this, with lips pressed together and slowly opening to explore that which they truly desired. Aziraphale tasted sake on Crowley’s tongue and thrilled to hear the strangled noise he made when Aziraphale nibbled at his bottom lip. 

“Angel,” he breathed, between kisses. “Are you sure? Please be sure.”

Aziraphale stopped and pulled back, his hands cradling Crowley’s face. “I am sure, my dear. I have been sure about this for a very long time, and I hope you’ll accept my apology for not acting on it sooner. I wanted to, and I would have if not for the threat of your very destruction.”

Crowley gulped and stared at him, dark glasses still in place. “Besides, imagine what Gabriel would have done to you.”

“I didn’t care about that,” said Aziraphale, shaking his head. “I was worried for you, my dear, and how they might punish you.”

Crowley’s bottom lip trembled slightly, and he made a crushed sort of sound before pulling Aziraphale close for another kiss, this one more desperate and messy. When they came apart this time, Crowley’s face was wet with tears, and Aziraphale brushed them away.

“We’re all right now,” he said. “You’re safe, and we’re here together. My dear, may I remove your sunglasses?”

In response, Crowley snapped his fingers and the glasses disappeared. Aziraphale smiled at the sight of his eyes, two beaming yellow suns that betrayed every emotion the demon felt. At the moment, they were so filled with love that Aziraphale could understand why he’d often kept the glasses on when they were together. If he hadn’t, Aziraphale would have known exactly how Crowley felt about him. He’d hoped, of course, but those eyes would have banished all doubt from his mind. 

“Come along,” he said, taking Crowley’s hand and leading him to the sofa where they’d spent so many nights before. Aziraphale snapped his fingers to switch on all the twinkly Christmas lights he’d set up earlier. He saw Crowley smirking, about to tease him, and he leaned in to silence him with a kiss. 

As Crowley hummed against his lips, Aziraphale pushed him gently in the direction of the sofa, coaxed his knees into bending, and laid him down. Crowley watched as Aziraphale climbed onto the sofa, knees on either side of Crowley’s legs, and leaned down into another kiss. He licked into Crowley’s mouth as he pressed his hips down. The demon let out a ragged moan as Aziraphale moved against him, pressing close. 

“You’ve...you’ve done this before,” he panted, sliding his fingers into Aziraphale’s delicate hair. 

“Once or twice,” said Aziraphale, coyly, as he nipped at Crowley’s earlobe. “Haven’t you, my dear?”

“Yeah, of course, but I’m a _demon_ ,” said Crowley. “I didn’t think your lot went for this sort of thing.”

“Well, as I think has been well established,” said Aziraphale. “I was never a very good angel.” 

“I don’t know why you say that,” Crowley hissed, hips jerking up from the sofa. “You’re better than any of them.”

That warmed Aziraphale’s heart more than it should have, and he kissed Crowley softly in return. Crowley’s hand on the back of his neck was insistent, holding him close as he deepened the soft kiss, pressing his tongue deeper into Aziraphale’s mouth. Aziraphale was glad neither of them technically needed to breathe; if they wanted, they could remain like this for hours, exploring each other at their leisure. Perhaps they would, now that they had time, but Crowley’s hips kept pressing up off the sofa, grinding against Aziraphale’s. 

“Is this how you imagined it?” Aziraphale asked him, brushing fiery red hair from his forehead. 

“I imagined it lots of ways,” said Crowley, grinning. 

“No, I mean, is it okay that I’m on top?” 

“Yeah,” said Crowley, with a gulp. “More than okay.”

Aziraphale smiled at him and pressed a kiss to his left eyebrow. “All right if I speed things up a bit?”

“Meaning what? I mean, yeah, of course.”

Aziraphale snapped his fingers to disappear their clothes, and the resulting sensations were almost too much to bear. He’d been so eager, and now Crowley’s warm skin against his own was a shock. It was not unpleasant -- far from it -- but as his cock slid against Crowley’s hip, he nearly came a bit ahead of schedule. 

“Oh, my dear,” he moaned, thrusting against him. “You’re so lovely.”

Beneath him, Crowley certainly seemed to be enjoying himself as well. He slid his hands down Aziraphale’s broad back and curled his fingers into his arse, then down to his ample thighs. He squeezed the flesh and urged Aziraphale on, eyes wild as he pushed his angel toward climax.

“Wait,” said Aziraphale, voice breaking as he forced himself to stop. “I...I want to be inside you.”

“Oh,” said Crowley, very softly. “Oh, yes please.”

Aziraphale nuzzled his nose against Crowley’s neck and pressed soft kisses to his collarbone. He slid one hand down Crowley’s left thigh and pushed it out, urging him to spread his legs. He used a quick miracle to slick his fingers and pressed one into Crowley, watching the demon to make sure this was all right. Crowley hissed and gasped his name, so Aziraphale added another finger, spreading him gently, searching all the while for that special spot…

“ _Fuck me_ ,” said Crowley, his back arching up off the sofa. “Oh, fuck, angel. Again...please, right there again.”

Aziraphale smiled and crooked his fingers again, drawing desperate moans from Crowley, sounds wrenched directly from his chest. Crowley flung one arm over his eyes and began moving against Aziraphale’s hand, pushing back against his fingers. The sound of his breathy moans made Aziraphale harder, if that were even possible. 

“I’m ready,” Crowley panted suddenly. “Oh, fuck, please.”

Aziraphale was trembling with it, with the realization of what they were about to do. It was something he’d thought about many nights, and something he’d never dared to try. It was true that he’d taken human lovers before, and they were perfectly fine dalliances. But he was always left wondering what it would be like with Crowley, with an occult being who knew his ethereal nature inside and out. With someone he loved more than anything else on earth. 

“Angel, don’t make me beg,” said Crowley.

“That’s a rather thrilling idea,” said Aziraphale, and he noted the way Crowley’s eyes widened. “Perhaps another time, though. Tonight I want to give myself to you.” 

As gently as he could manage, Aziraphale removed his fingers and moved up to kiss Crowley as a balm to the sudden emptiness. Crowley held him there for a moment, long fingers at his hips. Crowley gazed up at him, expression impossibly tender, and said, “I love you.” 

“Oh, and I love you,” said Aziraphale, emphatically, hoping that Crowley never had reason to doubt his feelings again. 

Then Aziraphale shifted, gently nudging Crowley’s legs up. He guided himself in and went slowly at first, aware of every little noise and movement Crowley made. The all-encompassing heat of him was overwhelming, and Aziraphale thought he must be dreaming. How were they allowed to do this? How was it possible after feeling so far out of his reach?

“Angel, are you all right?”

Aziraphale’s head snapped up to met Crowley’s bright gaze, and at that moment he realized he was crying. “Yes, I’m fine. I just...it’s all so much. I’ve held this all in for so long.” 

Crowley reached down to lace their fingers together. “It’s all right, I’m here.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath and thrust deeper as he felt more tears threaten to fall. The pleasure was so much stronger than it had been with anyone else. As he found his rhythm, Aziraphale focused carefully on Crowley, seeking out his love specifically, wanting to feel it in this moment. He tuned in to the melding of their bodies, the demon’s sunlit gaze, the way their fingers clenched together. And suddenly it was there, a force so strong that it made Aziraphale feel faint. He pushed their entwined hands above Crowley’s head, bracing himself and gasping as though he’d been running. He stopped moving his hips and leaned down to press his forehead to Crowley’s, their breath mingling. 

“What’s wrong?” said Crowley, nerves biting at the edge of his voice. “Are you okay?”

“My dear,” said Aziraphale. “I’ve never been better. I...I feel your love.” 

A sharp intake of breath, and then Crowley’s hands on his face, guiding him into another kiss. And Aziraphale could see all of their future kisses laid out before him, neverending, at the break of day and at sunset, on the street and in the bookshop, until the end of time. Now they were on the same page, free of their obligations, and they could fulfill their true destinies -- loving each other. Aziraphale moved his hips again, faster now, and listened to his demon moan. 

“I want to do this with you for the rest of time,” said Aziraphale, lost in the sensation of being buried deep inside of Crowley. He slid his free hand into Crowley’s hair, kissing him desperately. “Every moment of every day. I’ll never open the bookshop again.”

Crowley laughed, his smile as bright as his eyes. “You never open it much anyway.”

“Yes, but now I have a much better reason,” said Aziraphale, kissing his smiling mouth. He’d been staring at those lips for millennia and had somehow managed never to kiss them before. Though that was inconceivable, Aziraphale was glad he’d waited. To have kissed him before would have meant heartbreak far greater than the longing he’d felt. 

Crowley’s hips jerked up suddenly, his cock brushing Aziraphale’s belly. Murmuring apologies for keeping him waiting, Aziraphale let go of Crowley’s hair and snaked his hand between their bodies. He wrapped his fingers around Crowley, admiring the weight and heft of him, stroking him firmly. Beneath him Crowley came undone, writhing and thrusting into Aziraphale’s fist. He let go of Aziraphale’s hand and grasped the angel’s back, fingers digging into the soft flesh. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he growled, and then he came, a sticky sensation spreading on Aziraphale’s belly.

“My love,” Aziraphale murmured, kissing Crowley’s jaw and stroking him through it. Crowley moaned softly as his hips slowed and he came down. “All right?”

Crowley chuckled softly. “A far sight better than all right. Now fuck me, do whatever you need to.”

“Are you quite sure?” Aziraphale asked, hands trailing along Crowley’s ribcage. 

“I insist,” said Crowley. He wrapped his legs around Aziraphale’s waist and dug his heels into the angel’s back, urging him on. 

Aziraphale let out a very undignified sound as he pushed fully inside Crowley. He glanced down at the demon, who nodded to him, teeth sunk in his own bottom lip. So Aziraphale snapped his hips again and again, incoherent with how good it all felt. He didn’t last much longer -- just a few more thrusts and he felt himself unravel, coming hard and seeing stars. 

When he returned to himself, Aziraphale was sprawled on top of Crowley, and the demon was stroking his hair. Aware that he might be crushing Crowley, Aziraphale quickly rose up on his elbows, only to be pushed back down rather insistently. 

“You’re fine,” said Crowley, fingers scritching gently at the nape of his neck. “I’ve got you.” 

Aziraphale rested his head on Crowley’s chest and let himself feel the tenderness of the moment. It was all so intimate, with a bit of stickiness between their warm bodies, and it was something that might have frightened Aziraphale once upon a time. But now it was perfect, and he obsessed over every small detail as though this might be his only time to experience it. Crowley’s chest hair was surprisingly soft against his cheek, and he noticed the demon’s chest rising and falling; he could feel the very breath and life of him. Vaguely, Aziraphale felt Crowley sliding his foot up and down his calf, just as he had at the restaurant. 

“You’re barking up the wrong tree,” said Aziraphale, but he made no move to stop him. “I’m afraid these human bodies carry with them certain physical limitations.” 

“I know, I’m exhausted,” said Crowley. “Doesn’t mean I can’t run my toes along your lovely, shapely leg.”

“Oh, stop it,” said Aziraphale, though he meant the exact opposite. “Tell me this isn’t a dream.”

“It’s very real, angel, I assure you,” said Crowley. “And it was bloody incredible.”

Aziraphale, wanting to see Crowley’s face, pushed himself up on his elbows again. This time Crowley didn’t stop him, simply gazing at him with his golden eyes. “I’m sorry I cried.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” said Crowley, reaching out to cup the angel’s face. 

“I can’t believe I never noticed all that love coming from you,” said Aziraphale. “It nearly knocked me flat, how could I have missed it?” 

Crowley shrugged. “You weren’t expecting it. It’s hard to find things you aren’t looking for.” 

Aziraphale nodded. “I suppose you’re right. But I did think about it often. Perhaps too often.”

“It’s how I spent most of my nights,” said Crowley. 

“Oh, my dear.” Aziraphale kissed him softly, and they stayed like that for quite a while. 

But eventually, Aziraphale simply couldn’t stand the stickiness any longer. He miracled them both clean and pushed himself up and off Crowley, with only the slightest groaning of his corporation’s bones. With a quick gesture of his hand, he conjured up some cozy pyjamas for himself. When he turned around, he was surprised to find that his miracle had spilled over and conjured pyjamas for Crowley as well. The demon glanced down at the black and red tartan quizzically.

“Sorry about that,” said Aziraphale, a bit embarrassed. “Unintentional, I assure you.”

“Not my pattern, really,” said Crowley. “But they are lovely and soft.” 

Aziraphale smiled; Crowley looked like a gift that had been wrapped up just for him. Movement at the window caught his eye and startled him before he realized it was simply a steady rain that had begun to fall. “Oh, it looks miserable outside. But these are the perfect conditions for cocoa.”

Crowley smirked at him. “According to you, all conditions are perfect for cocoa.” 

“Well, yes,” said Aziraphale. “But it’s especially appropriate for nights when you’d rather cuddle up with someone special than venture out into dreadful weather.” 

“Does it say that on the side of your cocoa tin?” 

“How dare you assume that I use cocoa from a tin?” Aziraphale started toward the back room, and then turned back to Crowley. “Come upstairs with me?”

Crowley looked as though he’d swallowed his own tongue. After a moment, he recovered and nodded. “Yeah, okay.” 

Aziraphale lead the way through his back room to a door that was not opened with any frequency. Beyond the door was a narrow staircase to the flat above the bookshop. Even when the shop was closed, Aziraphale usually spent his time downstairs at his desk or in the back room. On rare occasions, when he really felt like isolating himself, he’d climb the stairs to the small flat. Despite its disuse, the flat was always clean because Aziraphale imagined that the space couldn’t get dirty if he wasn’t using it. He had never invited Crowley up to the flat. 

There was a modestly sized bedroom, a kitchenette, and a small bathroom. There was a four-poster bed with a tartan duvet, an array of soaps and fragrances along the bathroom sink, and books that had spilled over from the shelves downstairs. Aziraphale mostly spent time in the kitchenette, reading by the window or making himself cocoa at the small wood-burning stove. That was where he brought Crowley, where he gestured to a chair near the stove.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said. “I’ll just take care of the cocoa.” 

Crowley perched on the edge of the chair, sitting fair more primly than Aziraphale had ever seen. “Never been up here before.” 

“I know,” said Aziraphale. He gestured toward the stove, and a fire bloomed in the grate. “But we did just become rather intimate with each other. Now seemed like the perfect time to invite you up. Besides, this is where I keep the cocoa supplies.” 

Crowley smiled and settled back in his chair a bit. He watched as Aziraphale filled a saucepan with milk and warmed it atop the stove. He began adding the chocolate, breaking bits off from a large bar. It was dark chocolate, which he knew was Crowley’s favorite, so he held out the last shard to him. Crowley took it and popped it in his mouth, eyes shining with affection. Aziraphale sprinkled in cinnamon and nutmeg, stirring the mixture until it felt right. He’d been making his own cocoa for so long that he simply had a sense of when a batch was ready. He retrieved two mugs from a nearby cupboard -- his angel wings mug, and one with a blue tartan pattern -- and filled them equally. 

Crowley took the tartan mug gratefully and wrapped his long fingers around it, soaking up the warmth. He shifted his chair a bit closer to the stove and breathed in the scent of the warm, sweet cocoa. Aziraphale smiled into his own mug, feeling unbearably happy to have the demon here, in those pyjamas, his hair still mussed from their lovemaking. He took a sip of his cocoa, which had miraculously cooled to the perfect temperature, and realized he didn't need to keep his feelings to himself any longer.

"I'm so happy you're here," he said. "I've always been happy to have you here. You visiting was usually the most exciting and pleasant thing to happen to me in a given day."

Crowley's face was turning red, and Aziraphale was fairly sure it had nothing to do with the stove. "I was trying to be a nuisance. I can see I missed the mark on that one.”

“A monumental failure.” Aziraphale reached out with his free hand and squeezed Crowley’s fingers. “You can stay as long as you like. Even after the rain stops.” 

Crowley looked up suddenly. “You’re always keeping me safe from the rain, angel. Remember, back in the garden?” 

Aziraphale nodded. “Of course I do.”

“That’s when I fell in love with you.”

It was such a simple declaration, and perhaps it shouldn’t have surprised Aziraphale as much as it did. Perhaps it was the combined force of Crowley’s admission with his beautiful eyes on display, and his lips still slightly swollen from kissing. Whatever the cause, Aziraphale felt his eyes well up once again. 

“My dear,” he said. “Can you ever forgive me for taking so long to catch up?”

“Forget it, angel.” said Crowley, with a soft smile. “There’s nothing to forgive.”


End file.
